


After it was over

by applecup



Series: Fragments of a Fallen Empire [7]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Breakup, F/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22104760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applecup/pseuds/applecup
Summary: Eirnhaya and Malavai's final argument. Prompt fill from tumblr. Defection prelude.
Relationships: Malavai Quinn/Female Sith Warrior
Series: Fragments of a Fallen Empire [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/734250
Kudos: 6





	After it was over

The realisation hit Eirn like the speeder at full pelt, barrelling into her and leaving her winded and lightheaded. They’d had arguments - they’d had _passionate disagreements_ \- but this, the Empire’s offer of amnesty for its troops and Sith who’d called Odessen home-

‘That’s- why you’re here,’ she stammered - _stammered_ , as though she was still a nervous acolyte, _her_ \- ‘isn’t it? That’s-’

And she paused, right there, not willing to go any further in voicing that thought, if only because of the ugly things it said about her so-called husband.

‘That’s- not true, Eihn,’ he started - pushed off-centre himself, staggering to regain his metaphorical footing.

(this confrontation was private, at the very least; the _Pathcarver_ had served many purposes, and its current one was the only place on Odessen Eirn felt like she had any privacy. No Vitiate, no Lana, no Theron - no Empire, no Republic, no Alliance, just her and- until just now, Malavai)

‘I should have known,’ she added, half to herself - deflating, starting to pace the main hold in short circles in order to keep her legs from buckling underneath her. Things hadn’t been easy - she hadn’t _expected_ them to be- but _this_ -

'Eihn,’ he added, 'I- did not come here to- I did not know that the Empire would- make its offer of amnesty. I was as surprised as anyone else here. When I- left the Empire, I- did not think I would be welcomed back. It was not a decision I made lightly.’

Her name, like so much else about her, was Sith - was _Tsis_ , the legacy of Korriban, and one that Malavai’s Kaasi accent had never quite mastered. What he’d made of it had always been _theirs_ , but more and more it felt less like an endearment and more like proof that she had never quite been a fit to his Imperial sensibilities.

'But now they are,’ Eirn replied, 'And you’re- going. And that’s- that.’

There were any number of terrible implications here, and Eirn knew even without picking at them that she could lose herself for years in untangling them all. The fact he’d had to think so long and hard about returning to the Empire that had scarred and wounded both of them, or leaving it to join his so-called wife. The fact it had taken so little to make him leave _her_.

'It is- not as simple as you make it sound. I-’ He kept pausing - kept looking at her, studying her as she paced back and forth as though she were a puzzle to be solved, an equation to be balanced, a conundrum to be settled.

'I would like it very much,’ he added, quietly - taking a step back towards her and, when she didn’t resist, placing his hands on the outside of her arms - holding her, gently, as though if he pressed any harder she might evaporate under his touch. 'If you were to come with me.’

(Evaporate, or react violently, and the realisation that he still viewed her the way she viewed other Sith just made her remember the confession her mother had made. _That insecurity never goes away, not truly_ -)

'After everything the Empire did to me,’ she hissed, though - after all the scars it had left her with, more of them from Sith than from Jedi, 'How can you even _think_ of asking me that?’

He faltered, but didn’t reply - didn’t move, didn’t take his hands from where they rested on her bare skin, but didn’t acknowledge what she’d said, either.

'The Empire is- not the Empire you know,’ he began, eventually. 'It-’

'It is _exactly_ the same. Malavai-’ Eirn started - pulling away from him, finally, breaking that contact - leaving him to stand there, hands out for an awkward moment until he pulled them in, not quite hugging himself in turn but not sure what he was supposed to do, either.

'The Empire,’ she added, 'Put _you_ in a- labour camp for- trying to do the right thing. Why would you _ever_ \- go _back_ to that-’

(but she already knew why; he’d served Baras even though the Sith had done nothing to help him, even after Baras had tried to kill him - or to kill her, while not worrying in the slightest about any collateral damage. He’d been a loose end, after all - knew too many of Baras’s secrets to ever live, a fact which had all the same done little to dispel his loyalty to the man)

'Moff Lorman was removed,’ he replied, 'And-’

'For _trying to kill Acina_ ,’ Eirn hissed, not letting him finish. 'It was nothing to do with you, or- anything resembling _justice_ ,’ she added - other than an attempt at salving Acina’s bruised ego.

They’d already had this argument, though - or ones like it, about the freedom Eirn had found on Odessen and the ways it offended every one of the Empire’s sensibilities. They both knew it, too - and Eirn just gave up, at that, sitting back down on the couch abruptly enough that the stuffing creaked. She tried to find words, and just sniffed; she tried to blink, and found that there were tears she could do nothing about, except wipe away in the futile hope they wouldn’t collect in the places where her tendrils didn’t quite break the skin. She just ended up hugging herself, again; closed her eyes and tried to breathe and mostly just felt sick. Everything was unravelling, and there was nothing she could do-

Except sit there, as he sat near to her - not next to, but the seat opposite, as though that was supposed to be a reassurance.

'We would be together,’ he added, quietly. 'And you would- not have to run from the Empire - or the Sith.’

That, Eirn knew, was aimed at another argument they’d had - the what-comes-next that she supposed everyone had argued over in the wake of the events on Nathema. The Empire did not view its traitors kindly, and Eirn knew she was a traitor they would particularly hate; a heretic, a fallen Wrath, responsible for a whole Council’s worth of dead Darths. To say nothing of the Alliance’s own snubs of the Empire’s causes.

'And Anya?’ Eirn added, looking back to him - not bothering to wipe at the tears, this time, and not reassured by the fact he didn’t have any. 'What about her? Do I just- give up-’

'She could come with us,’ he replied, immediately - apparently having not put even the smallest thought into this. 'The amnesty extends to Sith-’

She interrupted him with a laugh that had nothing to do with humour. 'And you’re naïve enough to believe that? The same Sith who tortured me for surviving Ziost would just- welcome back traitors and heretics with open arms?’

He had no reply to that; fumbled for one, but apparently came up with nothing he felt worth saying. Either he did believe it, in which case he was an idiot - or he didn’t, in which case he was asking her - and Anya - to submit themselves to an Empire where their immediate execution would be the best they could hope for. Eirn wasn’t sure which idea she disliked more - that he was still so blind he only saw what he was ordered to, or that he knew what he was asking her to do and didn’t even care.

Eirn just snorted at his lack of response, before unfolding her arms, if only so she could lean her elbows on her knees and bury her face in her hands, close her eyes and not have to look at the one person in the galaxy who, not so long ago, she’d hoped she might get to see again each day for the rest of her life.

'Is there,’ he added, quietly - barely breaking the silence, the words catching in his throat, 'Anything that I can- say which will- make you reconsider?’

_If you were any other Sith_ , a dark part of her mused, _if you_ were _Sith, you would not even give him the opportunity to leave_.

Which was the problem, as it had always been. That dark part of her - the part that Korriban had forged, the part that had stared back at her in that cave on Tattooine - that part had always been a more obedient Sith. It wasn’t who she was, though - who she wanted to be, who she _tried_ to be, and for a while, she’d even been able to kid herself that he’d loved her for that effort, not despite it.

She looked back up at him, though - studied him, for a long moment (wondered if he wasn’t crying because he didn’t care, or because she cared too much; because he had control over himself, or because she had too little), taking in that feeling once again of being a puzzle to be solved, and wondering if this could ever have ended any other way.

'Just- go, Malavai,’ she replied, eventually. She regretted the words immediately; wished she could unsay them, wished there was something she could do to _make_ him understand the pain he was asking her to relive, and saw the way he flinched and realised that no matter what else she said, all he’d ever hear was blame. 'Just… go.’


End file.
